‘Let’s start a bit nearer the beginning, shall we? I did wonder exactly what Prithvi was doing in an obscure part of the southern states . . . Texas, was it? . . . when he met you. Now, looking at these, I think I can guess!’

She nodded. ‘He’d been in Florida. Know where that is, Joe?’

‘Vaguely. Carry on.’

‘He’d been sent over to the States as his father’s agent. His financial agent. Things had not been going too well, cash-wise, in Ranipur for years.’ She paused, wondering how far she should confide state secrets, he guessed.

‘I had worked that out,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Years of drought, the mines running out, crippling of the lucrative trade routes, depopulation, over-taxation, enforced contributions to the war in Europe . . . I could go on! The signs are all there to be read by anyone with eyes to see. In an earlier century they would have taken up arms against another state on some pretext or none and simply stolen their treasure but this is no longer an option allowed under the Raj. And the clues that indicate the coffers are bare are the unfinished projects and the calculatedly spectacular pieces of extravagance – hocus-pocus to hide the true state of the princedom.’

‘You’re a hard man to fool, aren’t you?’ she murmured. ‘Yes, you’ve got it figured right. They cashed in their reserves of jewels and Prithvi came over to the States – via Paris, Switzerland and Amsterdam – to invest in the future. They decided that instead of sitting by watching the last reserves be depleted year by year until the treasure house ran dry, they’d invest and get a return on their money. And, Joe, it’s working! These guys own Florida!’

‘Own Florida? Is that good?’

Madeleine sighed. ‘Prithvi was interested in golf and polo and that’s what originally attracted him to the place. He realized that what he thought attractive, others did too. Americans were taking vacations . . . foreign tourists were arriving. Suddenly real estate was hot! People were buying up mangrove swamps before breakfast and selling them as building plots before tea. For fifty times the price! Prithvi got in on the deals right at the beginning. He did well.’ Her face was animated with humour and affection. Joe didn’t interrupt.

‘His family wasn’t always royal, you know? Merchants, that’s what they were from somewhere on the trade route north of here.’

‘Surigargh,’ said Joe.

‘That’s right, and I guess it’s in the blood – dealing, I mean. Prithvi was good. Very good. He diversified. He invested his Pa’s money in lots of things. He was bright, he was lucky. He followed his nose. One day he was in the crowd that listened to the Dempsey-Charpentier fight. The whole thing, well, all four rounds of it, was described from the ringside and put out all over the country by wireless-telephony. Prithvi wanted a part of it so he bought Westinghouse stock and you know what’s happened to wireless-telephony?’

‘We call it radio broadcasting now,’ said Joe. ‘Clever old Prithvi!’

‘He just went with his own enthusiasms. He was mad about automobiles – he bought General Motors stock. Aeroplanes – he took shares in the Curtiss company. That’s how I came to meet him. He was thorough. He didn’t just get carried away. He heard we were flying Jennys so he came over to see the show and talk to Stuart about the aircraft before he invested.’

‘Well, I can really admire what Prithvi achieved,’ said Joe. ‘But tell me how you managed to turn the screws on poor old Udai Singh and make off with these?’ He tucked the sheets back into the envelope and handed it back to her.

‘He’s kept very quiet about this new way of financing the state. Zalim knows, of course, and possibly Claude, but no one else I think. It’s very, well, medieval still in its thinking and customs – you’ve noticed – and most people here don’t travel. They haven’t much idea of the world over the pond. For them, the wealth of Ranipur is in its state jewellery and reserves of precious stones, stashed away safely in the khajina. If they were to find out that it’s been almost emptied and the new wealth is a few dozen sheets of paper locked in the safe in the ruler’s bedroom, things might get a bit uncomfortable for the ruler and the Dewan. “Questions,” as you British might say, “would be asked.”’

Joe looked at her, grim-faced. ‘So you threatened to broadcast the fact that the state coffers are bare, that they’ve been systematically looted by Udai Singh? That the man proud to be father to his people has sold his inheritance for a stack of papers printed in a foreign language? No wonder he’s eager to get rid of you! I’m amazed he hasn’t had you fed to the crocodiles!’

She turned large, frightened eyes to him. ‘And that’s still a possibility. Don’t think I don’t know that! I’ve got Stuart to keep the planes trimmed and fuelled up and ready to go. Come with us, Joe! We could be off tomorrow at first light. First stop Delhi – next stop, anywhere in the world! Why not?’

‘Can’t be done. I have an appointment to shoot a tiger in the morning.’

He heard his crisp, dismissive British officer’s voice replay in his head and was ashamed. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Madeleine, I’m sorry! What a pompous thing to say!’

She squeezed his arm. ‘You’ve been hanging around with Edgar Troop for too long! Never a good idea, Joe. But at least you do see why I’m creeping about looking over my shoulder the whole time?’

‘Yes, I do and I won’t wrap it up, Madeleine, you could have brought down a wasps’ nest on your head. You shouldn’t have meddled. You don’t know what’s been going on under the surface . . .’ he added distractedly.

‘And you do?’ she asked immediately, seizing on his uncertainty.

To tell her? To confide in her? To hear her down-to earth reaction, telling him his fears were ridiculous? For some time Joe had felt himself in possession of the appalling truth behind the deaths of the two heirs but unable to seek rebuttal or support for his theory from anyone else. So unpalatable was his suggestion, he had hidden it away in a corner of his mind but, piece by piece, layer by layer, information, opinions, intuition had snowballed around the core of his idea until he was desperate to let the whole thing out, and hope that someone would shoot it to bits.

She took his face gently in her hands and turned it towards her. ‘You know, don’t you, Joe? You know who killed Bishan and Prithvi?’

Taking his silence and downcast eyes for an answer she persisted: ‘Tell me! Prithvi was my husband! I have a right to know! I must know!’

He held her hands in one of his and put his other arm around her shoulders.

‘It’s all right, Joe,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to scream and stamp about or chase after anyone with a carving knife!’

He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, thought again and looked away. Then, remembering Lois with her admonition – ‘The walls have ears’, he turned and put his head close to hers. Through the lily-scented curls he whispered, ‘They were killed on the orders of Udai Singh. Their father.’

Chapter Nineteen

Madeleine’s shoulders began to shake with horror and he held her tightly for a few moments until she grew steadier. Her mind was whirling, he guessed, tracking his own on its unwilling journey down the dark corridors of palace intrigue. She took her time.

‘Okay, Joe,’ she said finally in a calm voice, ‘I’m prepared to go along with this . . . to a point . . . but first, tell me – why?’

‘Well, so long as you remember that this is purely speculation. And I’ve only been in the palace –’

‘Get on with it, Joe!’

‘Udai’s people call him “Bappa”,’ Joe began simply. ‘And there you have it. He is father to the tribe and nothing in his life is more important than this role. He discovered he was dying about two months ago and what will a dying man do but put his house in order? The survival of Ranipur was his first consideration. Above everything, he knew that his first son would be a disastrous ruler and unable to pass on the state to his own children because he had none and there was no prospect of there ever being any. I believe he looked at his three sons and decided that the third, Bahadur, was almost perfect for the job – would have been perfect had he been legitimate – but acceptable all the same. Everyone likes him, he’s an able boy and the choice would please the British whom he values as an ally in these troubled times. They’re in favour of preserving the autonomy of the Indian princedoms after all and to that end the politics of Ranipur and the Empire march together.